HOMEARIUM

TWENTY-THREE
Homearium, Day 1

Once the homearium was complete, she moved into it with Junior.
During the day, sunlight flooded the room, twinkling off the water, a brilliant sideways light as if it was underwater, with the hanging furniture swaying in the breeze.

The water came to just below her knees. Wading forward was difficult, slowing her down and making every action more difficult. Before that first morning was over, her thighs were aching.

There was also the difficulty of moving around Junior. When first released into the homearium, he appeared terrified, squealing with distress and rocketing around the space as fast as he could, looking for an exit and the other dolphins. After the fear began to wear off, he became needy, or maybe just bored. He followed her about, rubbing against her calves, investigating everything, dashing between her legs, knocking her off balance, a 300-pound puppy. He would not leave her alone.

Used to playing with the other dolphins, at times he also nipped at her ankles. Kat had never done this. His teeth were young and sharp, not yet worn down by fish and sand. The slightest touch of his teeth broke her skin. She’d yell and jump away. When she pulled her leg out of the water, the cuts were shallow, but they welled with blood.

She assumed he would stop this soon, once he got used to being here and wasn’t so bored. Meanwhile she had to struggle forward through the water, moving so slowly, while he could glide and turn quickly. Even though she watched her feet, she occasionally stumbled over him, falling badly twice that first day, landing partly on him and partly in the water.

The situation was not ideal for him either. In water this shallow, he could move much faster than her, but at nothing close to his normal speed. His tail scraped against the bottom with every flick. He could not dive or corkscrew or jump.

In order to live together, the two of them had to occupy this liminal zone, both of them hobbled.

Of course, if needed, they could retreat. She could step up the stairs onto land, and he could move into the deep end of the pool just beyond the glass sliding doors. The space under the sliding doors was open, so he could swim under them into the deep end whenever he wanted. However, that whole first day he didn’t. He would move up to the doors, gazing underneath at the water beyond. Perhaps, without other dolphins, he was uneasy about entering this larger space. At this edge, he would at times squeal loudly, she assumed for the others. Once in a while, she could faintly hear the dolphins down in the lagoon respond. For her to hear them inside like this, they must have been screaming.

Meanwhile, when she needed the bathroom, she’d slosh across the homearium to climb the stairs out of the water. Moving through air was so easy in comparison, her legs nearly floated forward. In the dry room, she’d close the door and peel off her bathing suit. Sitting on the toilet, she faced the humming fridge. When she finished, she’d tug the wet bathing suit back on, double-check the material was covering her appropriately, and then head back out to the pool, where she’d have to slog forward again.